


don't you worry

by tabloidsuperjunkie (orphan_account)



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Because of Reasons, Eventual Romance, M/M, Nyongtory, nyongtori
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 14:49:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13056213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/tabloidsuperjunkie
Summary: in which memories are like a crumpled paper – Seunghyun can never remove the wrinkles, even though he tries to bury it under a thick stack of papers.Jiyong, however, begs to differ."Accept the things you cannot change. Have the courage to change the things you can, and have the wisdom to know the difference."—Nora Allen (Justice League: The Flashpoint Paradox, 2013)





	don't you worry

**Author's Note:**

> This story is heavily inspired by  _Don't Worry, Dear_ , Kwak Jineon's version [[x](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3v9vepLl4UU)]

 

 ** _Jiyong should’ve known better to_** not give in to his curiosity and minded his own business instead – especially when the pair of brown eyes staring back at him are clouded by something he can easily translate as _gloom_. And oh Jiyong should’ve known better, once the man who possesses the orbs quickly lowers his gaze, the smile spreading across his lips doesn’t quite reach the glint of brown surface. Merely a few footsteps apart, Jiyong’s ears catch the low cuss Youngbae mutter under his breath – the shorter guy must be rolling his eyes while measuring the milk inside the glass too.

And the moment once Seunghyun’s eyes meet Jiyong’s own once again, the barista never knows that the brown – the shade that usually reminds him of the soil, wet once the rain pouring down from the open sky – could look somewhat blue. Jiyong accepts the bills in his hand, most likely out of habit, without tearing his gaze away from the melancholy seeping out the curve, spoiling the lips Jiyong usually sees curl in pure happiness.

“Keep the rest for the tip,” Seunghyun’s words are tinged with a tremble that almost goes unnoticed if only Jiyong doesn’t see a tiny droplet desperately holding onto the tip of long lashes. A waft of air grazes the tail of dark brown coat Seunghyun is wearing, the piece of fabric flaps as the man whirls around and trudges towards a chair placed alongside the large glass window.

“ _Idiot_ ,” Youngbae swats Jiyong’s back, startling the latter from his trance.

Jiyong lets out a long, heavy sigh and reluctantly meets the eyes that belong to a girl. Stealing one last glance at the silhouette, he recites the same line he’s been doing for almost a year, “Welcome to The White Rabbit! What can I get for you today?”

 _Really_ ; Jiyong should’ve known better that ‘ _I haven’t seen you with him for quite a while_ ’ isn’t _the_ way to greet a regular. If only his boss was there, the lady must’ve reprimanded him and made him a trainee mercilessly – that’s Miss Hyori for everyone, after all.

 

—

 

Jiyong steals another quick glimpse at the figure, whose sweater-clad back is the only part of Seunghyun he can stare at. The other male’s eyes seem to find anything beyond the transparent glass window the most interesting sight to behold. It’s not like Kwon Jiyong can complain, though – located across the coffee shop is There’s Nothing Batter, a bakery owned by a young man named Kim Junmyeon, which display of fresh breads always triggers nothing but water in his mouth (Jiyong makes a mental note to buy a baguette later once his shift’s over, and the barista swears that he can almost feel the crispiness of the crust in his taste buds). Jiyong knows that the drink in the coffee that just left the lips is hazelnut latte and the spot is always the same one Seunghyun takes. However, what he’s still yet to get used to is seeing the empty chair across the table and realizing that it’s the third time Seunghyun visits The White Rabbit alone.

And today’s the 12th.

Jiyong replies Daesung’s wide grin with a friendly slap on the taller’s upper arm before turning his head, meeting Youngbae’s squinted eyes and quirked eyebrow. “Daesung’s here. I’m taking a break now!” And before the shorter male opens his mouth, Jiyong swiftly slips into the pantry room and discards the navy blue apron, taking an extra effort to keep it on the hanger neatly. Only in a few moments later, the guy’s seen outside, yet each step he take is a hesitant one.

Without a doubt, Seunghyun is still sitting silently on the very same spot and staring at only he and God know what it is. And to be frankly honest, Jiyong really has no any clear idea _what_ he’s doing, let alone _why_. Perhaps, he truly is an idiot, just like what Youngbae has kindly emphasized only a few hours ago (and in so many different occasions). Or perhaps, he simply has no idea how to stop following his whims – the same one that casted a shade of blue glazing the brown of Seunghyun’s eyes upon the most thoughtless question Kwon Jiyong popped out of curiosity.

Regardless what its meaning is, Jiyong indeed has heard that curiosity may kill the cat. But, to be fair enough, the last time Jiyong checked, he was damn sure that he was no furry little bastard whose head was full of menacing ideas of world domination from the top of a cat tree. Period.

All it takes is only a simple, ‘Hi,’ but nothing goes past Jiyong’s lips aside from a puff of empty air. He feels like a stupid goldfish breathing in and out the water, flapping his tiny fins while swimming around the small fishbowl that has become the only world he knows. Much to his luck, the other guy has noticed his presence first – Seunghyun raises his head, his eyes meeting Jiyong’s own.

“Hey, Jiyong,” a small smile blossoms on the lips, and Jiyong freely admits that it’s _the_ smile, the one that always looks perfect on Seunghyun’s features. “Taking your break already?”

“Yes,” the barista cleans his throat, thinking that he’s squawking his answer like a plump little mouse stuck in a hole. “Yes. And uhh… would you mind if I…?” He glances at the empty chair across Seunghyun before his gaze lands back at the brown surface, gleaming under an oddly perfect mixture of the warm golden flush light and the sunlight of winter day entering through the glass window.

Seunghyun shoots his eyebrows up, obviously startled by the unexpected question. “Ah, sure,” his chin gestures at the unoccupied seat, which is no longer empty once Jiyong’s bottom lands at the polished wooden surface. Seunghyun throws a small polite smile Jiyong replies with a slight nod, words vanish from the tip of his tongue.

Well, as if there are anything he’d like to say to begin with anyway – _Idiot_ , the little voice inside Jiyong’s head nicely reminds him. But it’s already too late for him to abruptly stand up and hurry away, leaving the other male back to his solitary, which absolutely may raise another question following his behavior. And, of course, Jiyong will never be able to withstand another mocking scoff and scolding Youngbae would be more than willing to give. Even now, as the coffee shop reaches its peak hours once the college students and white collars are finally out to taste the fresh air, he swears that he can feel Youngbae’s stare drill a hole through his thick skull. Hell no; Jiyong won’t allow the short barista crush the infinitesimally tiny piece that remains from his dignity.

Seunghyun’s side profile and brunet locks, glowing faintly under the light to contrast the dark sweater hugging his figure snugly, captures Jiyong’s attention and words begin to stream towards his tongue.

“Sorry,” is the first of the many, a weak mutter spurred on by a hazy shade of blue still veiling the brown pools of Seunghyun’s eyes. Jiyong clears his throat once he’s met with another confusion beaming from the other’s gaze, repeating the same word, “Sorry. I’m sorry for what I’ve asked – _said_ before. I didn’t intend to meddle with your personal life and was only trying to greet you… friendlily. The attempt tanked, of course. Big time. And you’re our regular customer; perhaps that’s what loosened my tongue. In my defense, I took a day off last month and on October, you came here a little too late than usual and it was right before the end of my shift. And—”

“Jiyong…”

“—I thought that he might come late. So it never crossed my mind th—”

“Jiyong,” Seunghyun raises his voice, a slight difference yet it’s enough to bring Jiyong’s rambling to a halt as the latter blinks, his mouth is still agape from the word he has yet to finish. “It’s okay,” pushing his half empty cup aside, Seunghyun leans his back and tilts his head to one side. “It’s okay; I mean it,” the brunet quickly adds once Jiyong shows a sign of protest, “It’s not like I announced it to the world, right? It’s okay. Don’t be sorry.”

The barista runs his set of fingers across his hair, keeping the strands away from his face – a fruitless attempt, given the generous amount of gel applied in the morning to hold his hair neatly the whole day. His cheeks puff up and deflate along with a wheeze of air escaping his pouting lips. He’s apologized and Seunghyun says that there’s no need for him to do so. Case closed, problem solved; Jiyong should’ve raised his body off the seat, left the brunet alone, and grabbed something to munch for lunch.

However, again and again, Jiyong’s brain doesn’t seem to know how to keep things simple just the way they’re supposed to be. That’s why the next words that escape his lips are, “What’s with the 12th? Is it a special date? Both of you never fail…ed to miss it every month, and it seems like you still don’t.”

It’s only a split second that feels like forever when realization strikes Jiyong’s brain like a jolt of electricity. _Fuck_ , his eyes widen in a stir of worry, fear, and anticipation once the small smile on Seunghyun’s face falters, leaving nothing but a faint trace between tightly pursed lips. _Fuck, fuck, fuck… Kwon Jiyong, what the fucking fuck did you just say, you dim-witted buffoon?_

Something pulled a panic cord inside his brain, sending another train of words of apologize hurrying towards his tongue. “Seung—”

A long, heavy sigh cuts the barista, a whirl of air to break the uneasy silence that starts to condense between them. Seunghyun’s eyelids keep Jiyong from staring at the brown orbs only for a momentary before they flutter open. Light wrinkles form on the outer corners of the eyes along with a weak smile blooming across the lips. Seunghyun lets another sigh escape before the lips part and words roll smoothly from his tongue. “Today’s my birthday.”

Jiyong’s own eyes widen, his mouth forms a small o. “Really?” He mouths the six letter-word in the least graceful way, feeling as if he’s turning into a goldfish once again.

Seunghyun’s tongue dips out only a little, wiping his lips clean from his latte. “Yeah,” the porcelain white cup sits in front of him, a sight that pulls his stare. “And our anniversary too,” the quiet chuckle sends quiver to the slumped shoulders. “Well, at least now I’ve learnt that I shouldn’t have said yes when he asked me to be his boyfriend on my birthday. Let my birthday be _my_ special day, not… ours.”

The bitterness in every word reaching Jiyong’s ears is almost unbearable, which is quite peculiar in its own way. After all, it’s not like he knows Seunghyun as a _friend_ friend, although they indeed have established a sound relationship between a customer and a barista, friendly enough to allow them engaged in a casual conversation that lasts longer than ‘ _How are you today?_ ’ from time to time. Jiyong has got used to Seunghyun who frequents the shop to work almost every day – the latter is apparently a famous blogger and writer – during his period of nine months working at The White Rabbit. However, that’s all their relationship is all about, making whatever taking place right here and right now an unfamiliar area Jiyong’s stepping into, watching cautiously as Seunghyun unfolds the raw feelings hidden beneath a façade he practically has been putting on for quite a while.

If Jiyong chose to behave professionally, he’d have said ‘ _Happy birthday_ ’ and a few more words of consolation like ‘ _I’m sorry to hear that, but it’s a big world and I’m sure you’ll find a better person out there sooner_ ’. Although, to be completely honest, the barista would’ve never needed to approach Seunghyun at all if he’s always acted like anything but a fool. Hence, it should be no wonder at all when the very next thing Jiyong says is, “How long are you planning to stay here? Would you mind to wait until my shift is over at 4?”

And of course, the brown beads in Seunghyun’s eyes beam nothing but questioning look as the brunet raises his gaze. Subtle streaks of frown crumple the patch of skin between the eyebrows are loud enough to echo the confusion twisting inside his head.

“Well…” Jiyong licks his oh-why-suddenly dry lips, his fingers are tapping out a reckless beat on the wooden table. “It’s your birthday and it’s not fair that you’ll be spending the whole day alone…” he mentally slaps himself upon the subtle twitch at the corner of Seunghyun’s eyes, but once the words are spilled, there’s no way for him to go back to where he started – Jiyong’s stuck in a dead end, “…and I really have nothing to do later. And I still owe you an apology, so…” The heart inside his chest raises its pace, each thud hits his rib in every passing second of awkward silence stretching between them.

Half of him wishes that Seunghyun will reject his offering – _Damn, what if he thinks that I’m taking him for a date? How genius you are, Kwon Jiyong!_ Because it absolutely is _not_ about a date and, contrary to popular belief, Jiyong isn’t reckless enough to ask someone who just broke up with his boyfriend out. The other one, though, hopes that the brunet will… _What, Jiyong? Will what?_ The barista bites the inside of his cheeks, still unsure with what he’s actually doing.

Thankfully, whatever Greater Power out there still has enough mercy on Jiyong. Relief soon washes over him once his eyes capture the sight of a warm smile stretching from one corner of Seunghyun’s mouth to another, the shade of pale blue somewhat no longer taints the brown orbs. Along with a quiet huff of air slipping out of his lips, the tension on the brunet’s shoulders vanishes. Seunghyun straightens his back, a ray of sunlight kisses the brownish strands, casting a shade that reminds Jiyong of the shimmering bronze.

“Sure, Jiyong,” says Seunghyun lightly. “I’d love to.”

Specks of gold spreads across Seunghyun’s lips as he smiles, and Jiyong cannot quite keep the imagery from flooding his mind as he returns to his place behind the counter where Seunghyun’s back, once again, is the only part of the man he can view. With an oddly pleasing sensation tickling his chest, he recalls how the lips resemble the shape of a cat’s mouth. The discovery suddenly makes him forget the tight clenching of hunger inside his stomach from skipping his lunch.

 

—

 

Youngbae squints his small eyes and Jiyong is thankful that there’s no such a thing named mutant in the universe he’s currently living in; otherwise, his friend would’ve really created two holes through his head from the laser beaming from his eyes as his gaze doesn’t cease to follow Jiyong. The short guy deserves to let suspicion cast a shadow in his mind anyway, especially when the light spring in each of Jiyong’s step directs him to the direction where Seunghyun sits instead of the door.

“You oaf,” harshly, Youngbae pulls his friend closer to keep a close distance between, allowing him to speak in hushed voice. “What the hell are you doing now?”

Jiyong scoffs and gives the other guy _the look_. “Chill, Youngbae,” yanking his hand free from Youngbae’s grip, Jiyong later uses the opportunity to ruffle the latter’s hair – something that always guarantees him a quick yet merciless death, but Jiyong knows better that the threats coming out from the guy he’s known for five years are always empty. “It won’t suck this time. Promise.”

Yet the suspicion on the surface of Youngbae’s squinted eyes stubbornly lingers, even when Jiyong shows his left pinky – after all, showing your little finger is still a legitimate gesture to express your sincerity, which makes pinky promise a life-long pledge to build a trust between two parties or more. Youngbae shifts his gaze from Jiyong’s face to the finger, scoffing in a rather helpless manner. “Whatever, Jiyong. Whatever. Just make sure that we won’t be short on one regular, especially when he’s one of Miss Hyori’s favorite.”

“Hey, pinky pr— ouch!” Grimacing, Jiyong rubs the spot on his forehead that suffers from a flick his friend gladly gave before swiveling away. “Dong Youngbae, fu—”

“Jiyong?”

The said guy turns his head, meeting Seunghyun’s face over his shoulder. “Hey,” he whirls around and sees that the other man has put his brown coat on. “I’ll go to the bakery across the street first before we leave. Would you mind to wait? I kind of forgot to eat lunch earlier. It won’t be long, though.”

Seunghyun shrugs lightly, a small smile on his face. “No problem.”

And only in a few minutes, Jiyong has escaped the cold wind outside as he enters There’s Nothing Batter that oozes the homey atmosphere – the familiar smell of freshly baked breads fill the space, the layout is planned carefully to make the most of the limited square footage. Tall racks are arranged neatly alongside the wall, where cookies of various names and packaging are displayed, while the shorter ones are pushed against the floor-to-ceiling glass windows for passers-by to catch a glimpse of the assortments of breads to warm their stomach during their walk home. Adjacent to the all-glass façade is a rectangular table full of bread buns with different fillings, Japanese sweet buns, whole-grain bagels, banana breads, brioche, chickpea breads, and more – with a slight frown on his face, Jiyong notices the basket short on a bunch of baguettes.

Standing at the other side of the room is a young male, beaming as warm as the golden light flushing down the space. “Jiyong!” He greets enthusiastically, the smile spreads even wider.

The barista grins, raising one hand while striding closer to the counter. “Hello. I need baguette, Junmyeon. Did it sell out already?”

“You’re lucky,” the young baker flashes a wink, “I just finished baking another batch and they’re still warm. How many?”

“Two. Also, can you recommend me a cake?”

Junmyeon’s reply, however, needs to wait until he re-enters the shop with two baguettes in one arm and a small box in one hand. “Aren’t two baguettes too many? And speaking of cake, mind to try this one?”

“No,” Jiyong’s grin widens, “half for snack because I skipped lunch today, half for breakfast, and one whole baguette for tomorrow’s lunch. And what’s this one?” He cranes his head as the other guy places the white box atop the glass case where an array of birthday cakes are displayed neatly.

“Steamed sponge cake,” the soft gaze on the surface of Junmyeon’s eyes resembles that of a father’s as he’s staring at his precious little kid. “An Indonesian friend of mine showed me how to make it yesterday so I gave it a try this morning.”

Jiyong brings his face closer to the steamed round cake and that’s when the hearty scent of egg and butter mix greets his nose. As the baker cuts the treat into four slices, he can sees the soft texture of sponge cake, the bottom layer is colored in warm chocolate shade. “This looks yummy!”

A tint of blush creeps on Junmyeon’s cheeks upon the compliment. “Not to brag, but it tastes as great as it looks. And I’ve reheated it earlier so this should still taste as good.” Gently, the man closes the lid and carefully places it inside a paper bag – the baguettes soon follow.

“How many sponge cake did you make, huh?” The barista hands out the cash.

“Enough to share with my other customers the whole day. If only you came earlier, you’d have tasted it while it was still fresh from the pan. Also, it was a difficult task to keep this one safe from Baekhyun and Jongdae’s hands, but luckily one slice for them to share was enough.”

The waft of chuckle escapes Jiyong’s lips, trembling in amusement as the image of Jongdae and Baekhyun bickering about who should get the bigger cut crosses his head. “Wait, why do you only charge for the baguettes? And uhh… did you leave the kitchen with water still running earlier?”

Junmyeon quickly straightens his back, the silence lingers in the space echoes the sound of running water seeping through the plastic door curtain that keeps the store and kitchen areas separated. Pouting his lower lip a little, Jiyong watches cautiously as the guy standing across the cash register stiffens, his dark brown eyes widen and the smile that usually seems as if it’s permanently carved on his face vanishes.

The next moment after Jiyong blinks, the noise is no longer audible and Junmyeon beams, his dark eyes glimmer warmly. “Here’s the change, Jiyong. I hope you’ll enjoy th—”

Jiyong shoots his eyebrows up, noticing Junmyeon’s gaze that shifts towards something across the room. He turns and finds another figure standing under the doorway.

“Hello,” Seunghyun nods at Junmyeon. To Jiyong, he shows a navy blue coat hanging on his arm. “Daesung was looking for you, saying that you forgot your coat.”

“Uh…” Jiyong’s mouth opens and there’s nothing but an unclear mutter escape from the opening – no wonder he felt especially cold once he left The White Rabbit earlier. The noise of Junmyeon clearing his throat immediately shuts his mouth and Jiyong accepts the warm outerwear from Seunghyun’s hand. “Thanks,” his brief expression of gratitude is no higher than a murmur, yet it seems like the sound manages to reach Seunghyun as the latter replies with a smile and ‘ _you’re welcome_ ’.

This time, Junmyeon finishes his sentence before whistling to _Jingle Bells_ , his attention is no longer at the other two men inside his shop. Jiyong, warm in his own coat over his usual all-black attire (the safest choice for work – not too formal nor too casual), leaves the bakery with Seunghyun on his left side. They join the bustling crowd, their shoulders occasionally brush against each other.

 

—

 

Seunghyun waits patiently as Jiyong swallows, yet the big lump isn’t soft enough to pass through his esophagus yet. What follows is unexpected: Jiyong’s fist hits his own chest repeatedly and the unpleasant gagging noise forces the guy coughing up empty air. Gratefully, Jiyong accepts the bottle of water Seunghyun has kindly offered and guzzles down the substance, relishing the sensation as the food slides down to his digestive tract smoothly.

After a series of loud and embarrassing rumbling that comes from nowhere but Jiyong’s stomach, leaving him a stuttering and flustered barista walking next to him, the brunet has convinced the latter to stop by a convenience store and made him eat half the baguette. The buttery smell of the treat that tickles his nose almost made Seunghyun salivate, but he somewhat managed to swallow it back down into his throat because if he remembered correctly, the black haired guy sitting next to him didn’t have his lunch earlier.

“Should we have an early dinner?” The brunet checks the time displayed on his phone screen, his head is soon filled with the names of places that would be great to visit during this weather while his eyes absently follow the figures passing by the store, seen through the large glass window. _Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas_ is playing inside, and Seunghyun notices for the nth time that Christmas is, indeed, coming – the first Christmas he’ll be spending alone after two years, it seems so.

Jiyong flashes his forefinger as his chin moves up and down, the last piece of baguette is still inside his mouth. “Wait,” he mumbles through the mouthful of food while his other hand rummages inside the paper bag. A moment later, the barista carefully places a white square cake box on the table – judging from the size, it’s probably no larger than a 20 by 20 cm one. “Whappwy bwithdway two—” Frantically, his hand scrambles on the surface and the male, coughing up empty air, grabs another bottle of water then hastily pops open the cap, bringing the brim of the opening closer to his mouth.

A low snicker brushes Seunghyun’s lips – it’s not like his first time watching Jiyong act rather silly, which often earns him a scolding from his colleagues at The White Rabbit (and sometimes the lady who owns and manages the place), yet to experience it personally is quite an amusement to behold. And just like before, he patiently waits until the other guy that always strikes him nothing but an acquaintance swallows his food properly. Although it’s not difficult to guess what’s inside the box perching on the table, Seunghyun decides that he prefers to have Jiyong presenting what’s inside to him instead.

Using the back of his hand to wipe off the droplet of water that manages to escape from the corner of his mouth, Jiyong’s lips soon stretch into a wide gummy smile. “Happy birthday to you!” exclaims Jiyong, his eyes land on the round cake sitting inside the box. “I forgot to get candles from Junmyeon, so, uhh, I hope you won’t mind a candle-less and plain sponge cake.”

The brunet lowers his gaze and cannot fight the ticklish sensation that spreads across his lips. It is indeed a plain cake with no colorful frosting to decorate, yet the yellowish color it shows looks simply lovely. Seunghyun has often heard all the praises for the young baker who seems to own and run the bakery alone, and once he had the chance to taste the breads himself months ago, he couldn’t agree more – especially when the scrumptious scent an invisible drift of air brings to his nose warms his chest only in a flash.

“You really don’t need to do this, Jiyong,” Seunghyun inhales the scent, letting it fill up his lungs. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he breathes out the air as his gaze meets the pure anticipation reflected on the warm onyx pools of Jiyong’s eyes. “But thank you.”

The barista’s lips crumple into a small pout and his right hand has become a fist, yet the thumb sticks out as a quiet noise of air escaping his mouth follows. Seunghyun raises his gaze, wondering what the other man’s doing this time. And once he figures out the answer, another light chuckle grazes his lips, warming his chest.

“Now you’ve got two birthday candles,” Jiyong cocks an eyebrow, wiggling it in a teasing manner. “One’s number two, and the other one is…?”

“Number five,” the pure glee is still present in the quiver of Seunghyun’s voice as the giggle grows into a laughter.

“Sweet,” Jiyong joins in the harmony, “You’re younger than I. I turned 27 last August.”

“Date?”

“The 18th.”

“Duly noted,” Seunghyun hums, “I won’t skip your birthday next year.”

“You better be. Otherwise, I’ll be utterly disappointed in you,” Jiyong’s shoulder nudges Seunghyun’s own, a playful smirk on his lips. “And hurry blow the candles before the wax gets on the cake!”

Upon the remark, Seunghyun puckers his lips and blows a wisp of air at the nonexistent candles. Although, the brunet shall admit that he can clearly imagine himself seeing not only numbered candles, but also the smaller ones crowding the cake like a mess of colors. “But Jiyong,” the frown lightly contorts his feature, a confusion is plain to see on his face as he turns to look back at the barista, “why can’t I blow them out?”

Playfully, the older male covers his o-shaped mouth with both of his hands, cooing, “Oopsie, must’ve bought the trick candles.”

The birthday guy fakes a pout, a false disappointment in his tone as he murmurs, “Then how should I—“

Just like how villainous alien always finds a way to disturb the peaceful life on Earth – heck, Seoulites even once had to watch in horror the moment a monster appeared seemingly out of nothing almost a year ago –a party pooper seems to be a slight annoyance nobody can avoid. And this time, it comes in the form of an unknown middle-aged man whose wrinkles on his face are deepened by the frown, two squinted eyes darting back and forth between Jiyong and Seunghyun. Meanwhile, the two, turning their gaze towards the stranger, merely maintains their poker face quietly. Following an awkward silence filled with a loud disapproval screamed by every fold twisting his features, the man mutters unclear words under his breath before walking out the store. The duo, however, do not cease staring at the male as he scurries past the large glass window, the only barrier that keeps the world outside from entering the place.

Only when the middle-aged man has fully disappeared from their field of vision does Jiyong break the quiet. “Killjoy.”

Seunghyun nods solemnly, his bottom lip is still jutting out slightly. “True.”

“So…” Jiyong tilts his head, meeting Seunghyun’s brown eyes from the perimeter of his sight, “How does an early dinner sound, Mr. Birthday Boy?”

“That would be great, Mr. Birthday Party Planner.”

 

—

 

Among hundreds of possible places they could visit, Seunghyun has yet to grasp even any slightest idea why he suggested Il Capellaio Matto. Sure, Jiyong was being nothing but considerate given it’s _his_ day, and what he’s still unable to understand is why this place should be the one that crossed his mind immediately.

But, well, there’s a reason why people say how difficult it’s always been to stray off a habit, right? There’s a saying, even – something with ‘old habits’ placed next to the title of a famous movie franchise Seunghyun cannot quite remember as it doesn’t really meet his taste. Or, perhaps, it’s Seunghyun’s mind trying to come up with a legitimate excuse only to fail rather majestically… especially when a young waiter beams the moment their eyes meet somewhere along the way.

How the younger guy – a nametag pinned to his chest reads “Jongin” – always seemingly move unusually swift although Seunghyun’s damn sure the former was standing at the furthest corner of the pizza restaurant seems to be one of the questions in life he has to crack. And only a few seconds later, the waiter is standing in front of both Seunghyun and Jiyong, flashing a toothy smile stretching across his lips, wide enough to carve a subtle dimple in his cheek. “Seunghyun! Happy birthday and happy third anni—” But the moment his eyes lands at Jiyong, a glint of confusion clouds his eyes – it’s not enough to rob the orbs from the friendly stare, although it’s clear enough to echo the question that’s possibly ringing in his head: ‘ _Who’s this guy?_ ’

“Hey,” the brunet shifts the center of his gravity from one foot to another, “Jongin.”

The obvious change in his gesture doesn’t escape from Jiyong’s eyes, apparently, as the latter lightly tugs at the sleeve of Seunghyun’s coat. “You okay?”

“Uh…” Seunghyun can only gulp down the saliva once the hearty smell of freshly baked pizza spreads in the room. “Yeah. I’m… good.”

A noise breaks a momentary awkwardness as the waiter clears his throat. “Oh, were you from Junmyeon’s place earlier?”

The other two follow the line of Jongin’s stare, noticing the handles of a paper bag inside the grasp of Jiyong’s right hand. “Yeah…” Seunghyun mumbles. “You know him?”

“Enough to make him feel obligated to feed us with his freshly baked bagels every morning after all the stuffs he’s always made us do every night. Do you want the usual place, Seunghyun? Although,” Jongin cocks his head, heaving his shoulder a little, “since it’s not dinner time yet, you can choose other… spot.” Jiyong frowns at the tinge of doubt weighing the last word dripping from the young man’s smiling lips.

Seunghyun bites the inside of his cheeks, gnawing at the flesh lightly. “The usual one will do, Jongin. Thank you.”

Confusion is a bottomless pool of void inside Jiyong’s head – the brunet was the one who recommended the place, yet why does he act as if he’s regretting it? Pieces of imaginary puzzle are within his vision, each of them is weirdly shaped and Jiyong has no idea how to arrange them into a bigger picture… a true one. Unless…

It’s a small eating area pushed against a large window nearly isolated from the rest of the restaurant – Jiyong’s narrow attention span is quickly diverted by a question that doesn’t take longer than a second to flood his head: ‘ _What’s with Seunghyun and glass window?_ ’ Beyond the border formed by the glass surface is a small courtyard Jiyong believes to be a great place to enjoy the warm pizza, baked inside a wood-fired brick oven, a centerpiece of the rustic-style restaurant the layout doesn’t bother to hide. However, the weather is nothing less than ideal to retreat inside, back to the arms of warmth the space heater gladly provides – if only it was a warm spring or sunny summer day, Jiyong would be beyond elated to take Seunghyun outside, watching the colorful blooms on fresh green yard and basking in the warm sunlight while sating their hunger.

“Jiyong?”

The raven orbs of Jiyong’s eyes stop somewhere along the way once they notice that the tenderness on the brown surface unfolding before the barista glows brighter under the flush light. Yet, as Jiyong’s eyes flutter open after another blink, the shade of blue seems to find its way back, casting a cloud that threatens something quite like ocean eyes.

“What would you like to order?” Seunghyun’s question melds seamlessly with Bing Crosby’s voice as _White Christmas_ plays in the background.

Suddenly, a pang of guilt hits his chest, a repugnant taste of regret melts in his taste buds. For a moment, Jiyong cannot bear to look into the brown eyes across the small table as he’s overwhelmed with embarrassment. _Why?_ He asks nobody. _Why did I do this? Why did I offer him to celebrate his birthday with me? Why couldn’t I leave him alone? Perhaps, that’s what he wants, isn’t that?_

Jiyong the goldfish suddenly feels suffocated inside his fishbowl. Has he outgrown the place he’s always known as his world? Or did his bowl shrink out of the blue, as if it was exposed to the shrink ray?

The barista can feel the stare the brunet is giving him as he stutters his words to the waiter, who repeats their order regardless of the absence of attention he receives. – “Pizza Margherita and hot mocha, please.” Silence fills in the gap between them as soon as Jongin leaves them alone, creating an invisible wall that seemingly grows thicker in every passing second. The barrier is soon proven to be feeble, though, when one single, gentle nudging at his shin breaks it into pieces.

“Jiyong,” the tone in Seunghyun’s voice is nothing but calming, enough to tear Jiyong’s gaze away from the blotches of white paint on the table top, not quite to cover the wooden surface to echo the rustic, nature-inspired texture of the element. “Anything wrong? You were as jolly as an elementary student going to his first field trip only earlier, and now you look like a puppy after realizing the mess it has created when he only wanted to have fun with a tissue roll in the bathroom.”

Oh how Jiyong wishes that he can join in Seunghyun’s quiet chuckle, yet his lips remain sealed and pursed inwards. The brunet, however, doesn’t seem to give up easily as the tip of his shoe, once again, lightly bumps on Jiyong’s shin.

“What’s it in your head? Just tell me.”

Something tugs a string inside Jiyong’s chest when his gaze captures a glimpse of cat-like smile on Seunghyun’s face. And that, apparently, is more than enough to spill the only word he’s been keeping at the tip of his tongue.

“Sorry,” Jiyong heaves a heavy sigh, rubbing his face across his face. “I’m… really sorry, Seunghyun. I should’ve known that it was a bad idea. I mean, it’s _your_ birthday, yet I can’t seem to find any idea to make amends for that stupid remark I said this morning. And now, it looks like we’re inside the place you’re least likely to be at, perhaps because of the memory that has become your past not so long ago.” His fingers have moved towards the black strands, grasping a handful of hair for each hand to pull. “I should’ve known better that my ideas are always ridiculous, yet I keep listening to myself and my stupid brain nonetheless. Though I sincerely do not want you to spend your birthday alone, I obviously am clueless of what I should do. Really, Seunghyun: what am I doing now? If it wasn’t because of me, you probably would be spending the rest of the day alone, in peace. If it wasn’t because of me, you… maybe you…”

Jiyong doesn’t get the opportunity to finish, though. As Jongin approaches with a cup of hot mocha for him and another cup for Seunghyun – Jiyong assumes that it is tea from the smell – a pause lingers. The waft of hot air spiraling over the substance filling up the porcelain vessel pulls his gaze as if it’s the center of his gravity.

“You really are _silly_ , Jiyong,” is what breaks the silence, spoken in a tone that feels oddly warm as the tremble in Seunghyun’s voice is something that resembles the bell chimes – amused and delighted. “I’ve always known that you’re pretty unusual… in a good way, of course. And silly, if I must repeat it once again – _really silly_.”

Jiyong shifts rather uncomfortably on his seat, peering cautiously as his fingers finally land on the table, tapping out a beat to match the speed of his heartbeat. His murmur is inaudible, which Seunghyun dismisses easily – to him, it doesn’t sound important anyway.

“But you should’ve realized it by now that despite your... antics,” the brunet pauses for a moment, allowing a grin to creep on his face, “there’s surely something in you that makes Miss Hyori still employ you. And I think I can see why,” a ghost of a smile lingers on Seunghyun’s lips before they trap the brim of the cup, sipping the warm liquid. “Besides, don’t make it only about you; I turn 25 today, which makes me more than capable as an adult. If you’re still regretting over why you offered yourself to be my company today, remember that _I_ accepted your offer. Yes, Jiyong, regardless of how the rest of the day will be, it’s partly my responsibility too.”

Heat spreads from Jiyong’s fingertips as he pulls the cup closer to him, carefully lifting it off the table to feel the soothingly hot liquid wet his lips and melt in his tongue. The warmth creeping on his cheeks must be from the hot mocha that comforts his chest and stomach, he thinks to himself. “Tell me why you’re younger than I,” he mumbles, lips are still close to the brim of the cup.

“Because my parents conceived me when you were one year and five months old,” Seunghyun’s answer sounds as earnest.

“Not fair,” Jiyong scoffs as a new song is playing inside the restaurant. “I’m older than you. I should be the one consoling you.”

“Then do it,” Seunghyun cranes his head, acknowledging Jongin who looms over them with two trays of pizza in hands. “I insist, Jiyong.”

“But first,” Jiyong’s eyes widen the moment they land at his food, “there’s a date we must attend to.”

 

—

 

One thing Jiyong often hates from winter is how the night always seems to prevail only in a blink of an eye, as if an invisible hand pulls the curtain and keep the very little sunlight from entering. Hence, when he glances at the scenery expanding outside the window, his chest is still quivering from the heartwarming laughter, someone apparently has painted the sky in tar black shade without permission. His eyes follow each golden flicker that sparks almost like fireflies in the darkest of the night as the artificial lights shower the small courtyard. His ears catch the humming of his name; turning his head, he’s soon met with the radiance of brown surface veiling the glint of Seunghyun’s eyes that matches the glow each strand of Seunghyun’s brunet hair reflects.

Seunghyun opens his mouth, ready to throw another anecdote from his college days. However, the piece of story is never meant to start at all, even with a simple ‘once upon a time’, the moment his eyes are locked with Jiyong’s raven own – a color mirrored by the entirety of the outfit the man sitting across the table is wearing. He always sees _it_ whenever they exchange simple greetings during their usual encounter inside the comfort of The White Rabbit, where the scent of roasted coffee beans fills the space like a cozy blanket Seunghyun has kept ever since he was a kid: a certain kind of earnestness that looks as pure as that of a newborn baby. But to behold the warmth gracing him in a more private occasion, Lee Seunghyun is engulfed by nothing but relief.

Despite the pain still lingering in his chest, almost forcing a burst of tears to blur his vision merely from the thought of who should’ve been sitting in front of him, Lee Seunghyun is simply grateful.

 

—

 

Il Capellaio Matto has been far behind them as the two males, once again, reunite with the hustling life outside. As the evening falls and the artificial lights flood the heart of Seoul, people are seeking out a mean to recuperate from their daily exhaustion, not caring about the chill of winter wind at all. With stomach full from their early dinner, Jiyong and Seunghyun has been spending minutes that stretch into hours strolling down the streets, talking about their daily lives and works – although none of them addresses it, both know that they’ve been cautiously avoiding certain topics that may lead to a further exchange about dating and romance.

That’s how Jiyong knows that Seunghyun is the oldest between two siblings, an older brother to a sister who is four years younger than him. Despite his current profession, the brunet graduated from a business school, deciding to focus on writing as it was the only passion that remained aflame. Right now, he’s currently writing his very first book he expects to be published the following year – when Jiyong asks what the book is about, he only gives him a mysterious smirk and a whisper that wheezes, “It’s a secret.” And only when Jiyong keeps prodding him does he finally add, “There’ll be a major change from the approved draft I’ve been working on. However, I reckon it’s a semi-autobiography, written as if I, as the author, and the other I, as the subject of the story, have always been two different entities.”

“I don’t get it,” Jiyong mumbles, clenching and unclenching his fists inside the front pockets of his coat. He lifts his head, but the light is still red.

The same enigmatic smile is still on Seunghyun’s cat-like lips. “You’ll find out later.”

“Does that mean I’ll get a free copy? With your autograph?”

“Hmm… I can arrange that.”

“You sound unsure,” Jiyong’s brows nearly meet in the middle as the frown crumples his forehead.

And Seunghyun raises his left pinky, not caring if the horde of strangers surrounding them have finally started to move. Jiyong’s eyes are glued to the finger, stretching out while its bigger, taller cousins are coiled into a fist. “Will it be enough?” The cat-like smile widens into a toothy grin, and Jiyong quickly notes that its shape almost resembles that of a heart. “The left one, because it’s closer to our heart.”

A thrill of excitement creeps into the older male’s chest, tugging the corners of his lips upwards as his features mimic Seunghyun’s. Jiyong pulls his left hand out of the little comfort his coat pocket offers, entwining his pinky finger with Seunghyun’s. The contact lasts for a little while and their fingers unlatch once a new crowd starts to gather around them.

“You’re silly, Jiyong.” Seunghyun’s chest feels warm from the rumble of soft chuckle.

For the first time, Jiyong notices how contagious such a gesture is as his quiet laughter joins in. “Thank you, Mr. I Turn Twenty-Five Today.”

“So, where else should we go to? I don’t feel like going home yet, Mr. I Believe in Pinky Promise.”

Jiyong raises his head, staring at a patch of nothingness looming above the skyscrapers. He squints his eyes, adjusting to the glaring city lights that overshadow the stars above – _Pity_ , he tells himself. _Stars always look clearer during winter nights_.

“What are you staring at?”

Jiyong blinks and lowers his gaze, rubbing his palms altogether against each other for the much-needed heat-generating friction. “Nothing,” he murmurs, bringing his clasped hands closer to his lips and relishing the warmth each blow of air escaping his puckered lips on his cold skin. The thought of big balls of hydrogen and helium light-years away from his homeworld suddenly reminds him of _one_ particular star Jiyong can always reach within his arm’s length. “Fancy some Christmas shopping?”

And that’s how the two males sneak out of the crowd, walking down the same path they came from earlier and entering a department store at the end of the block. The joyful Christmas song playing inside is loud enough to hear outside, inciting a humming seeping out Seunghyun’s lips as the auburn sings along to _Jingle Bell Rock_.

During their walk towards the aisles of racks full of Christmas-themed decorations and accessories, Jiyong tells the younger about his fascination for Christmas tree topper ever since he was too young to remember it. All he knows now is that even though he’s too lazy to set up a Christmas tree inside his apartment, Jiyong will always make sure he’s spending the Christmas Eve staring at the ornament, watching in amazement as the gold sparks brighter, just like he always remembers it.

When Jiyong turns his head, the shade of blue has become waves crashing on the rocky cliffs as Seunghyun is giving him the ocean eyes.

“I’m sorry…” the younger wheezes, quickly wiping the tears brimming the pools of his eyes with the sleeve of his coat. “Jiyong, I’m—”

“It’s okay, Seunghyun,” the black-haired male reaches out, the pad of his thumb tenderly brushes the patch of the younger’s damp cheek. “It’s okay,” he hums, the two words are repeated like a mantra, recited not to patch the cracks in Seunghyun’s voice nor his dam, but to pull out the mysterious lump that’s been weighing his chest for quite a while.

Seunghyun, once again, is grateful.

 

—

 

The same question, once again, pops in Jiyong’s mind: ‘ _What’s with Seunghyun and glass window?_ ’ But Jiyong knows better that it’s one of those rare moments in which he puts his whim out and prefers to keep his silence – he can still ask the question later as there’s another matter of urgency to tend to in hand.

From where they are right now, sitting next to the glass window of Cheshire Cat – the nearest coffee and tea shop owned by a friend of Miss Hyori, a man who also goes by the name of Seunghyun – he’s graced by a clear sight of giant Christmas tree, standing tall and proud in the middle of the public square. Shiny baubles and sparkling garlands of various colors are illuminated by the string lights whirling around the centerpiece. Fake snows Jiyong suspects to be soft cotton are scattered across the also fake pine needles, a contrast against the depth of the green, and the next question coursing into the cave of Jiyong’s mind is: ‘ _Will it be snowing on the Christmas Eve?_ ’

Jiyong’s eyes do not cease to trail to and fro the showpiece, the large star-shaped topper gleams almost too brightly is always the one that leaves him in awe.

If they were usual customers, Jiyong would’ve needed to come over the counter once the barista on duty calls his name. However, both baristas know that the raven-haired one is nothing sort of a ‘usual customer’, hence the younger approaches with light springs with two cups in his hands.

“Thanks, Minseok, Nice hair, by the way.” Jiyong tears his gaze away from the sight outside, relishing the warmth spreading from his hands as his fingers grasp onto the cup in gratitude. Seunghyun’s eyes are still damp and red, yet Jiyong notes in a single glance that they don’t cease the brunet from beaming sincerely as the latter receives the other cup.

Minseok raises his eyebrows in plain glee upon the compliment. His fingers creep up, touching the violet-colored fringes with a lopsided smirk playing on his lips. “Finally, someone with a good vision and great taste. I’ve been telling Kyungsoo that this color will be the next hottest trend for weeks and Chanyeol refuses to agree with me, while he once dyed his hair in a color that resembled the unicorn vomit.” The guy shudders, his features slightly grimace as if he’s reminiscing a traumatic memory. “He said it was pink and blue and purple, but…”

Jiyong snickers as he steals another glance at Seunghyun, who quietly sips his drink with his head lowered and shoulders hunch. “Well… to be fair, the wildest hair color Kyungsoo’s ever had is red, and it wasn’t even as vivid as the one Chanyeol pulled off last year.”

“Yeah,” Minseok slips his hands inside the front pocket of his jeans, shrugging nonchalantly. “He can suck his balls and be a sore loner as long as he’d like to. How did he and Jongdae end up dating anyway…” And with the question he mumbles under his breath, the barista on duty leaves the other two alone behind.

The richness of spices and herbs, mixed in a brewed black tea, sparks as the liquid substance melts into Jiyong’s taste buds – as expected from one of Cheshire Cat’s signature beverages, especially when it’s Minseok the one who’s crafting the drink. Jiyong is humming appreciatively as he takes another sip when his name is spoken in a hushed voice.

“Jiyong…”

The older guy smiles. “How’s the tea?” Earlier, he ordered the same drink for the younger, wishfully thinking that a cup of Masala chai will help calm him.

“It’s… good,” the answers comes in a heave of heavy breath escaping the lungs. Here and there, there are cracks in Seunghyun’s voice even the three words are the only first ones slipping out his lips ever since Jiyong decided that his Christmas shopping shall be resumed on a better day (it’s not like today’s less than better to bring home a new tree topper. However, just like the one question about Seunghyun and glass window Jiyong most likely has let slip through his memory, his shopping is nothing sort of urgency as of now).

“I’m glad,” an invisible thread tugs the corner of Jiyong’s mouth slightly upwards. “Although, if I were allowed to be honest, I worry now that you’ll start working here instead at your regular spot in The White Rabbit tomorrow.” Jiyong peers from the brim of the cup as he takes another sip of his tea; he doesn’t expect to hear even a stifled laughter, yet a sincere small smile creeping on Seunghyun’s lips is more than enough to relieve him. Inside his head, he can almost hear the sound of gears moving as he pushes a bundle of nerves of his brain to come up with something _right_. However, the younger seems to beat him to it as his figure slouches down on the chair across him.

“Memories are scary, Jiyong.” The façade creaks open once again, another crack on the surface, as if the tremble in Seunghyun’s voice is the sole cause. “They’re like ghosts; you’re the only one who can see them, refusing to give you a space even to take a quick breath. They’re haunting you like an imaginary monster hidden inside your closet, not willing to spare you few hours of good night’s sleep – you refuse to believe its existence, yet something inside your head keeps telling you that it’s true, that the monster’s _there_.” By this time, Seunghyun cranes his head, his stare is swarming across the empty air looming above the two silhouettes.

Jiyong, however, gives him nothing but a reassuring silence. Or, perhaps, it’s the warm substance streaming inside his blood vessels talking, cleaning his insides from all the toxins building up after Jiyong’s tender gesture earlier removed a plug from his chest.

“Three years… It still doesn’t feel like a long time. But, one day, I woke up alone in the middle of the night only to feel suffocated by nothingness. Because, even when I looked at the empty space in my bed, the memory would come like a surge of howling wind as I was standing outside a house in the middle of a hurricane… and it reminded me of _him_ ,” the last word is barely audible, an indistinct noise that escapes the lungs along with a breathing of heavy air. Jiyong watches silently as the chest moves up and down, oddly calmly, before Seunghyun’s voice fills in the little bubble surrounding them once again.

“Each time I glare back at the skyscrapers, each time I glance at the empty seat on a bus, each time I stare at nothing but the plain, innocent fuchsia wall of a shop one block away from your workplace… he’ll always be the one that crosses my head. He’s everywhere, yet he’s nowhere at the same time. They say a ghost town is full of quiet whispers and suspicious stare, covered with fear emanated from every pore of the skin, creating the thick fog that often looks more real than its inhabitants. I beg to differ, though; regardless of all the pretty city lights and buzzing sound of hustling life, Seoul has become a deserted town where ghosts – _my ghosts_ reside.”

The sneer coming from Seunghyun’s lips casts a scowl on Jiyong’s feature – his ears distinguish the void that doesn’t sound quite right, especially when it’s found beneath the familiar, supposedly warm voice Jiyong always hears almost every day.

“As cliché as it may sound, I wish I could rip the part of my brain where the reminiscence of him, the recollection of us, is hidden. What’s the use of keeping it? I’m the one suffered from the past here, alone, while he’s chasing his future somewhere in Germany, where the city lights are probably brighter and there’s no Lee Seunghyun to hinder him from finally fulfilling his dreams.”

Another scornful noise Jiyong can only comprehend as a scoff grazes Seunghyun’s lips once again. And this time, the barista finally feels the tip of his nails digging in his palms, his knuckles are almost white from the pressure he’s been putting on his hands for God knows how long.

“He’s chasing his future, Jiyong. He’s out there, resuming the part of his life he once left behind to take a different path, and there’s no place for me there,” the force in the voice has reached some place inside Jiyong’s chest, tugging and dragging his heart down to his stomach. More and more cracks in every word spewing out Seunghyun’s mouth, and Jiyong’s heart is already drowning by the time the younger ends the pause with one and only sentence. “There’s no place for me in his _future_.”

Jiyong’s raven eyes glance around the shop, dismissing the look the other visitors give them and the curious stare from the passersby. His searching ends once he’s met by Minseok’s eyes, whose head nods slightly before he whirls around to busy himself with another pair of cups, tea bags, and a bunch of spices. The man merely empties his cup, not muttering any single word and letting the silence stretching around them. The air, however, is still thick with the gust of emotions latching tightly onto every word that just left Seunghyun’s lips. A soft piano sound melds into the white noise, a fleeting moment that ends with a gentle nudge on his arm.

“This one,” Minseok’s whispers are delicate, as if it comes from a mother who’s lulling her little baby to sleep, “is on me.”

The sparkling red, green, blue, and gold are soon replaced by a soft smile gracing Minseok’s features. “Thanks,” Jiyong murmurs appreciatively, carefully pushing another cup closer to Seunghyun whose vision is shielded by his own arm.

Minseok’s round eyes lands at Seunghyun, yet the stare reflected on the dark surface seems gentle rather than curious. “I hope he’ll be better soon.”

Jiyong quietly watches the younger while taking another sip of his drink. “He will,” he tells no one but himself, his pinky finger falls into his field of vision. “He will.”

The gentle smile is yet to leave Minseok’s face as the guy turns around to greet a new customer.

The quiet probably would’ve lasted longer if it wasn’t broken by the huff of shaky breath coming from Seunghyun’s lips – a noise loud enough to snap Jiyong from his contemplation. Only when the base of the cup meets the table does he finally calls the younger’s name. “Seunghyun.”

“Hmm?”

“I won’t say anything else as long as you’re not staring back at me,” Jiyong speaks gently, yet there’s a firmness in his tone that hints nothing but a demand for attention. It does take more than a moment for Seunghyun to divulge his eyes, red and wet from the tears that have left a damp trail on the skin. With a tinge of warmth blooming on his lips, Jiyong notices that the brown is still what he’s seeing the moment his eyes are locked with the other’s.

Relief, once again, washes over him.

“I’ll be rambling, and the words you’ll be listening to may be nonsense,” the older man folds his arms and leans forward, feeling a pressure his body puts on his limbs. “Minseok, the barista, was kind enough to bring another serving of the shop’s signature Masala chai. I may regret it later once tomorrow comes as I find you hang around here instead your usual spot inside The White Rabbit, but that’s not important – not for now, at least. So, Seunghyun, please spend the next minutes enjoying the drink while it’s still hot. You’ll really need it, trust me, because the last thing I want to happen to you today is you feeling bored to death because of my pointless talking.”

The younger sniffles and another tiny bead of tear drips down his cheek. Before Jiyong can moves to wipe it, Seunghyun has beaten him to it. “You’re already rambling.” A week smile blooms on his face, and Jiyong considers it a good sign.

“I think we’ve gone past the phase where it no longer fazes you.”

“I know. I merely stated the fact,” Seunghyun lowers his gaze, exhaling the hearty and spicy scent of the drink. “We’re seeing each other almost every day; I kindly remind you.”

Jiyong nibbles at his lower lip, musing. Acknowledging the remark, the barista merely nods his head after a moment and mumbles, “You’re right. But, well, it’s not the problem now. Please, enjoy your drink and don’t distract me with anything else. Let me start; it’s my turn to talk.”

Peering through the auburn fringes scattered across his face, Seunghyun fights the urge to tease the older even further. However, Jiyong seems to read what’s in his mind the moment his lips are slightly puckered into a pout, and the younger merely gives up. The small smile on his face still lingers, though, stretching wider once the warmth of the drink kisses his lips.

“Everything about ripping out the part of your brain containing all the memories about you and him is baloney.” Jiyong merely drops the bomb out his mouth, and once he sees Seunghyun’s eyes rounded in nothing but surprise, he knows that he’s got all of the younger’s attention on him. “Pasts are pasts, Seunghyun. They happened, maybe last year, last month, last week, yesterday, or maybe even five minutes ago. And that’s why they’ll never be your present, nor your future. They just… happened.”

Inside the barista’s head is a whirlwind of thoughts, words are spinning from the eye of the storm. Without breaking his stare from Seunghyun’s, he lets a momentary silence reclaims the gap between them as he picks up every piece of his thoughts patiently, arranging them like connecting coaches in the right order, making up a train that runs smoothly towards the tip of his tongue. The tense is unavoidable, for sure – an unseen waft of emotion seeping out of every inch of Seunghyun’s skin, floating into the thin air and eventually condensing into a heavy weigh sitting atop their shoulders. That, however, just another reason why Jiyong isn’t willing to tear his gaze away from the younger.

“I don’t mean to dismiss your feelings, Seunghyun. There’s no doubt, as I’m talking to you right here, right now, that your past… it causes you a lot of pain. But how your ex has been doing now isn’t my business; whether he’s happy or not, whether he’s fulfilling his dreams or not, nothing about him will ever earn even the tiniest scrap of my attention. But how you’re feeling, it’s what matters now. Put yourself first, Seunghyun, and think about yourself. Don’t you want to be happy?

“What happened in the past, let them stay in the past. Memories are like a sheet of paper, you know? It can be creased, crumpled, or even drawn on with different colors filling up the empty surface – blue, green, pink, or even white. There’s a mark, and it will always stay there, no matter how thick another stack of papers you place to bury the previous ones. That’s how memories, how our pasts work. How do you remember your birthday ten years ago, when you turned 15? And how was it last year, when you turned 24 and – I don’t know – left The White Rabbit with your fingers laced onto your ex for a dinner at Il Capellaio Matto? Whether you spent it with your friends from middle school or your ex, it _happened_ , Seunghyun. You cannot run from it.”

Another pause joins in their small bubble and Jiyong sips his tea. There’s a hesitation clearly plastered on Seunghyun’s frown. The lips part only to meet somewhere in the middle, an air of nothingness passing through the small opening.

“Thinking too much about the future will not change your past either. Future is a mystery humans are never supposed to resolve, Seunghyun, and allowing it to lure you with its captivating obscurity is nothing but an act of folly.” Absently, the pad of Jiyong’s forefinger draws a pattern on the surface of the table. It moves in a circular pattern and the male is oblivious of how many circles he has made. “There are too many factors to consider and a slight nudge can always create a significant turn, and stressing over each of them will only bound you to a shadow – you feel like you can see it, you think that it’s real, but sooner or later, the shadow will vanish and leave only a void inside your grasp. Even worse, as nothing else left to bind you, you’ll fall into the bottomless chasm, eating you as a whole as its mouth opens under your feet.”

“Ji—”

“I’m not finished yet, Seunghyun,” the only time Jiyong averts his stare is to finally notice the smoothness of the lacquered table underneath his finger. “You can’t help it, but life is indeed a series of memories. That, however, is what makes us humans – unlike animals, who retain only information to help them survive, our body’s gifted with the ability to store events… life, death, celebration, encounter, and even separation. Look at us now; someday, what we’re doing here, the things I’m rambling on right now, will be something we call ‘past’. How your red and puffy your eyes are now as you’re staring back at me, the spicy smell of chai tea spreads in Cheshire Cat as the warmth radiated by the cup relieves the cold from our hands, the way you look great in your black turtleneck, and a gigantic Christmas tree outside with an equally star-shaped topper I wish I could bring home… it’s inevitable, Seunghyun.

“But there’s something you can still change without having to dwell in the moments that are already far behind or trying to figure out what lies ahead. One of the most amazing women, Nora Allen, taught me a prayer: _Accept the things you cannot change. Have the courage to change the things you can, and have the wisdom to know the difference_. And that’s what I believe to be true, Seunghyun.

“I’ve said it to you; how you’re feeling is the more important matter as of now, if not _the_ one. I don’t wish to hear that you’d like to forget your pasts _just because_ they no longer fit the picture you _wanted_ to see, because it’s almost like removing a piece of you… removing something that makes you the way you are right now. I don’t know what was in your head when both of you officially began dating exactly three years ago. But, from now on, would you like to create new memories to help you ease the pain? Because I do hope that one day, it will no longer pain you anymore as you spend your birthday, even when you’re alone, because you finally have something more beautiful to reminisce… something to bring smile to your face rather than an aching pang on the chest.”

Silence, once again, welcomes Jiyong back like an old friend giving him a warm hug. Jiyong seizes the opportunity to slip back into his own space and averts his gaze, not intending to widen nor close the gap between him and the younger. _Did I talk too much?_ His teeth trap the inside of his cheeks, gnawing at it slowly. _Did it even make sense?_ The shadow inside his head is a slight doubt that soon vanishes as the barista shakes his head lightly.

He’s done his part, and how the rest of the night will go is up to the younger. And Jiyong, with his chin in his left hand, will occupy himself as he’s basking in the magnificence of the Christmas tree.

“Ji—” Seunghyun clears his throat. “Jiyong…”

By the time the said man turns his stare, he finds that the other’s eyes are also roaming around the scenery outside the confinement of the coffee house – one hand to prop his head, pressed against his chin. The older smiles a small smile upon the sight, capturing a glimpse of colorful baubles reflected on the pools of Seunghyun’s eyes. “Yes?”

“Wouldn’t that make me a selfish person?” murmurs Seunghyun, his voice is short on even the slightest tremble. “To leave him… to leave us behind, and to be happy?”

Jiyong’s eyes are naturally drawn to the star topper for the nth time. “The thing is, you cannot be happy without being a little selfish.”

“I see…”

“And how are you feeling right now, Seunghyun?’

The silhouettes reflected on the glass window are two blurry figures showered by the bright street lights in ever-changing colors. Jiyong thinks that he can see the warm brown on the glass surface where the reflection of Seunghyun’s eyes land, and Seunghyun believes that the colors in the dark of Jiyong’s orbs have nothing to do with the vibrant Christmas decorations adorning the city outside.

Nothing beats the real article, of course. Or, at least, that’s what immediately crosses his head the second Jiyong shifts his gaze a little to rediscover the specks of gold across Seunghyun’s lips, moving as the younger hums, “I think I’m happy right now.”

Jiyong’s mouth opens, yet what he means to say never goes past his lips as the familiar quietness inside the establishmemt has been replaced by the sound of ooh and aah. Confused, his attention is quickly shifted to figuring out what the source of the unusual noise is. The answer doesn’t take long to reveal itself, though, once he watches white specks drifting lazily before landing on Seunghyun’s auburn. Jiyong opens his palm and silently observes in amazement when the flakes meet his skin and leave a funny tinge of cold once they melt against his body heat.

(Later, before they leave Cheshire Cat, Minseok tells them that it’s the new concept to entertain the customers as Christmas is coming. Jiyong makes a mental note to tell Miss Hyori regarding this – with the high likelihood of Seunghyun being the new customer of Cheshire Cat once the morning comes, courtesy of Jiyong, it becomes reasonable that the barista thus has a dire need to secure his place at The White Rabbit.)

 

—

 

As much as they’d like to spend the rest of the night inside the comfort of Cheshire Cat, doing nothing but talking about everything. Jiyong and Seunghyun eventually have to leave the establishment as Minseok calls it a night at 10 P.M. Jiyong sighs while clenching and unclenching his fist, doing it as carefully as possible considering the paper bag he’s still holding. Seunghyun is standing a few steps away from him, talking to his sister through the phone for the last ten minutes. With nothing else to do or distract him, he merely watches the white wisp escaping his puckered lips whenever he exhales through his mouth, his mind is wandering somewhere his body cannot reach.

The night deepens, yet it doesn’t stop people from roaming the streets. Although the size of the crowd has lessened significantly, there are those whose life starts only when the majority of people are getting back to the comfort of their bed. A yawn manages to push its way out of jiyong’s lungs when a small group of guys walk past him, oozing the energy merely from their boisterous gesture – a feeling of nostalgia engulfs Jiyong once the fragments from his college days flash before his eyes.

“I think you should go home, Jiyong.”

“Hm?” The barista turns his head and another yawn escapes his open mouth right when their eyes meet. “What?”

Seunghyun chuckles at the sight. “Go home, Jiyong. And sleep; you must be exhausted now.”

“And what about you?”

“I’ll be home too. My sister has made me promise to answer her call 30 minutes later.”

“I see,” Jiyong moves the paper bag to the other hand. “So…?”

The younger quirks his brow. “Yes?”

The older guy lifts his head, eyes are absently looking for the stars only to no avail. “Did I do a great job today?”

A soft chuckle grazes Seunghyun’s lips and their shoulders lightly brush against each other. “Is it what you’ve been worrying about?”

“I don’t find any reason why answering that question with a white lie will benefit me.” Jiyong creates another white wisp as his cheeks deflate, breathing out the air. “Besides, given the probability that both The White Rabbit and its owner will lose one of their favorite customers, at least I need some boost to my self-esteem.”

“Well…” Seunghyun cocks his head. “You’ve earned yourself an A+, Jiyong.”

“And how many points does that grade worth?”

“More than enough to prevent your worst nightmare from happening.” The chuckle has grown into laughter, which is still as contagious as before – before he realizes it, Jiyong’s chest is swelling with the warmth. “Have I told you how silly you are, Jiyong?”

The older only rolls his eyes, though his shoulders are still shaking from the laugh. “I’ll call a cab for you.”

“Too late; I’ve called two for us.”

“Pinky promise isn’t silly, Seunghyun.” There’s a firmness in the tone of Jiyong’s voice, which incites a wide toothy grin stretching across the younger’s face.

“I’m not talking about pinky promise,” Seunghyun’s elbow gently nudges at Jiyong’s as he puts his hands inside the front pockets of his coat. “I’m talking about your unreasonable fear of getting scolded by Youngbae, Daesung, Seulgi, Chungha, and Miss Hyori for losing me as a regular customer. I do admit that Cheshire Cat’s Masala chai tasted heavenly and all that stunt with snowflake was amazing, but—”

This time, it’s a group of young girls passing by, young bodies and fiery souls who are more than ready to conquer the night. Jiyong’s attention is fully diverted by the loud, enthusiastic chatter, and his eyes unintentionally follow the direction where the flock is heading to. When the silhouettes disappear from his field of vision, his eyes linger along with the silence that starts to feel more and more familiar. Only when a flashy red convertible – _What kind of idiot who’d drive a convertible in a cold night?_ Jiyong frowns – does the barista remembers that he has yet to hear what Seunghyun was telling him.

“What?” His breathing melds with the younger’s as the latter turns his head and stares back at Jiyong. The redness and swelling on the eyes have vanished, much to Jiyong’s relief, and on the brown surface of Seunghyun’s eyes, Jiyong notices more and more specks of gold. They are scattered freely with no exact pattern to draw an imaginary line or two that connects each dot – _almost_ like the constellation of stars.

“What _what_?” Seunghyun’s lashes flutter, a graceful movement that refuses to follow the world’s steady pace.

“Earlier,” Jiyong lowers his gaze, meeting the white of his sneakers that glows under the golden light flushing up the space. “What you told me earlier, before the girls showed up.”

“Ah, it’s nothing of importance.” But before Jiyong can protest, the younger has taken a step forward first, flailing one arm up in the air. “Your cab, Jiyong,” exclaims Seunghyun, glancing at the other over his shoulder.

A frown soon finds its way crumpling Jiyong’s forehead as the male notices that there’s only a car driving up. “Didn’t you say that you booked two cabs?”

There’s a pause that lingers as the younger purses his lips inwards, forming an oddly teasing smile on his face. “I live close by, actually,” and the smile soon blooms into a wide grin – under the glaring light of street lamp, Jiyong notices that the shape resembles that of a heart, which is a quite endearing sight to behold.

“Well…” Jiyong, unable to fight the urge to smile back at the auburn, reaches for Seunghyun’s one free hand to pass him the handle of the paper bag. Unsurprisingly, the hand inside Jiyong’s own feels as cold, yet the sensation vanishes for a fleeting moment as Seunghyun squeeze Jiyong’s hand gently. “Good night, Seunghyun. Happy 25th birthday.” Once again, he watches as the waft if air escaping his lips mingles with the younger’s.

The auburn is the one who ends the contact first, beaming, “Thank you, Jiyong.”

Before the rear passenger door securely closes, Jiyong hastily swings the panel open and meets Seunghyun’s raised eyebrows. “Seunghyun, do you think it’ll be snowing on the Christmas Eve?”

Surprisingly, the auburn takes no longer than a flash to sate his curiosity. “I don’t know, Jiyong. Shall we find out later?”

And the answer is more than enough to make the smile on Jiyong’s lips stay, perhaps a little longer than he’d like to admit. It’s all right, though, as Jiyong also discovers that the star-shaped Christmas tree topper isn’t the only star he can reach within his arm’s length.

 

**E N D**

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This fic shares the same universe with this [fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12658398/chapters/28849845).
> 
> Happy belated birthday to Seungri!
> 
> Thanks to Brit for encouraging me and taking her time to read this fic before anyone else. There's Nothing Batter is for us because Kim Junmyeon is precious and whoever disagrees can fight me.
> 
> Thank you for reading.


End file.
